Wide Awake
by Y3AH
Summary: Taylor wasn't the only one with powers at Winslow High School, but not everyone wants to be a cape.
1. Chapter 1

Class ended in 5 minutes but all I could think was, _An hour is way too short for lunch._

Technically speaking, I didn't actually have a lunch period. Every day between my third and fifth period I had a free hour to "plan my classes." Most teachers graded papers or worked on their upcoming lessons; I used the time to relax. No matter how much I was looking forward to my break I still had a few minutes of teaching before I could send the students out.

My Current Events class was for seniors who didn't want to take a real history course. It was easy for them, and I tried to make it as easy as possible for myself as well. The majority of their grade came from participation points, leaving me free from grading most nights.

Today, for example, we were discussing the recent ketamine epidemic that had taken Brockton Bay by storm. The Merchants had overnight gone from a laughingstock to the biggest distributors of drugs in town. A lot my students had problems with that, seeing as how most of them belonged to either the Empire 88 or the Asian Bad Boyz. It seemed the only thing the Asians and the skinheads could agree on was that the Merchants were bottom feeders.

If there's one thing the Merchants are known for, it's drugs. This meant that the young Merchants in my class were usually too stoned to care about a few insults or shoves. Of course, they normally didn't care about school either, so as the semester went on I had fewer and fewer in my class. Say what you will about the Empire 88, but at least most of their goons finished high school.

"Alright guys, good discussion today," I lied as I stood up from my desk. "I heard some good opinions today. I can really tell you are all keeping up with the news."

The only homework I assigned, besides three essays over the course of the semester, was for my students to watch the nightly news so we could discuss it in class. Of course, it was clear most didn't do it, but I was willing to let it slide as long as it wasn't too blatant.

The bell rang, so all I had to do now was wait for the kids to shuffle out before I could leave. I turned back towards my desk to pack up my briefcase. Everybody knew not to trust the door locks so I had to take everything with me when I left for lunch.

"Mr. Palace?"

I turned around and saw Juri Lee, one of the few students who wasn't a complete failure. I gave her an insincere smile and asked, "What's up?"

"Mr. Palace why do you allow those racists to spew their filth during class?"

Juri was normally a quiet girl, but I guess she couldn't take listening to those Empire 88 wannabes anymore. I could definitely commiserate; whenever someone with a shaved head started talking, I would usually tune out.

"What do you want me to do about it? As long as they aren't being overt my hands are tied."

That wasn't the whole truth. If you checked the rulebook I had the authority to kick students out of class or give them detention as long as I used my judgement. I was a firm believer in consistency, so if I punished one racist I'd have to consistently enforce a no racism rule, and I didn't become a teacher to deal with that kind of responsibility.

I don't think Juri understood how much she was asking of me because she actually stomped her foot before replying. "But they _are_ being blatant! Neil called me an oriental whore to my face!"

I let out a sigh. Honestly, the kids at Winslow High were incredibly entitled. This little girl expected me to give a nazi gang banger a detention because he hurt her feelings. I knew that she probably wouldn't drop it if I blew her off, which meant that I would have to handle the situation with tact.

As a teacher I had some modicum of authority that I was always willing to abuse so I picked up my briefcase and said, "Tell you what: how about you head on off to lunch. I'll talk to Neil before class on monday."

Before she could respond, I stepped around her and towards the door. She just stood by my desk gaping at me, which meant that my escape was successful. I mean honestly, how would she like it if I came up to her during her break and started demanding all sorts of things.

The normal chatter of the halls gave way to shouting, and I saw two of my least favorite students in the beginnings of a fist fight. Lee had probably already passed his initiation into the Asian Bad Boyz, and nobody would be surprised if Ryan lifted up his shirt to reveal a swastika in the center of his chest. I didn't dislike them because of their gang affiliations, I just hated how they couldn't wait until after school to fight. If I knew them, then this bout of shoving was about to lead into a full on physical altercation that I would be expected to break up.

I walked quickly away from them through the halls towards the teacher's lounge. While I was going to go out to get food, there's no point in buying something to drink when the lounge has everything I could want for free. My students had tried to stress me out, but I knew just how to unwind.

The lounge itself was only a short walk away, just down a few halls and down some stairs. It was incredibly unimpressive, even compared to the rest of Winslow. It was had plain white tiles and cheap cabinets. The only saving grace was that it had a dirty sink and decrepit coffee maker. The grounds tasted like sawdust, but most teachers would take what they could get. By the time I reached the teacher's lounge there was only two people sitting in the plastic and metal chairs. There was a rather tall and fat man talking to an uninterested looking middle aged woman. While I didn't know who the guy was, I knew that the woman was some kind of freshman computer science teacher.

The fat guy glanced up at me as I walked in, but quickly returned to his flirting. I had probably been introduced to him at the beginning of the school year, but I didn't bother memorizing the names of unimportant people.

As I walked around their table I made a big mistake: I made eye contact with the woman. Apparently she was a massive busybody, because she took that as an invitation to talk.

"Wow Jack, are you feeling alright?"

Even though she would defend her actions by saying she "meant well," she still had no right to insult me like that. I would have let her know that, but I was already on thin enough ice with the school administration. It's like she thought that we were best friends just because our classrooms were next to each other.

I tried to smile and said, "Yeah I feel awesome. Just another day living the dream." I quickly stepped around them and headed towards the sink. The drain was rusty and the water quality was suspect, but that didn't matter for my purposes. There was a small stack of paper cups next to the sink, and I grabbed one and partially filled it with water.

It only took a second for me to change the lukewarm water into something else, and only a few more seconds to down the cup. My go to relaxation method at work was to drink about 100 mg or so of secobarbital mixed with water (I wasn't quite suicidal enough to mix it with beer). It was just enough to take the edge off, but still left me functional.

Just to be clear, I wasn't a cape. Capes could punch through walls, or had bulletproof skin. Some of them could even see through walls. All I could do was change one liquid into another kind. So while I never had to worry about running out of beer, the combat applications were extremely limited.

I threw away the cup and turned around just in time to see one of my friends. We made eye contact and started walking towards each other. He stuck out his fist as we got closer, and I obliged him with a bump.

He began our conversation with a joke. "Hey Jack, nice coat. Do they make them for men?"

Despite my best efforts, I started chuckling. "They do, but I don't think you can afford it, Mr. G," I put as much sarcasm as I could into his self made nickname, "Don't you have some students to suck up to?"

"You're one to talk, _Mr. Palace_ , at least I don't have a porn star name."

We started walking to the parking lot while bantering, as per usual. Normally we would use our hour to go get some fast food and complain about our jobs. Well, usually I did most of the complaining.

"Come on man, that was weak even for you," I said as we walked out the main entrance. "I'll have you know that women love my name, and that's not the only thing they love."

Ethan Gladly was my closest friend, which wasn't saying much if I was being honest. He was the closest in age to me among my coworkers, which again wasn't saying much when they were almost all old ladies. In fact, I'm pretty sure that the computer class teacher was older than the concept of computing.

"By the way Ethan, do you like my new watch?" I pulled my sleeve up to show him. "It's a Rolex Sky Dweller. It cost me more than $30,000." The watch had just been delivered last night and I was eager to show it off. After all, what's the point of expensive possessions if no one knows you have it?

"Damn Jack, how do you afford all this crazy stuff on a teacher's salary?"

I leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, "Don't tell anyone, but there's a lady who really enjoys my company. In fact, she paid for my watch and clothes."

Ethan shook his head while laughing. "Are you telling me you've got yourself a secret sugar mama? You look like a racoon with those huge bags under your beady eyes! And this is on top of the fact that you reek of cigarettes."

My car beeped twice as I unlocked it using my wireless key fob. I got in the driver's seat then reached over to clear off the passenger's seat for Ethan.

"Hey you know I only smoke imported cigars." I countered before he could sit down.

"Jesus man your car is almost as disgusting as you," Ethan buckled himself in then continued, "Did you throw a party in here?"

Every time he sat in my car he commented about the lack of cleanliness. He was probably just jealous of my four year old entry level sedan.

I looked over at him as we pulled out of the parking lot and said, "You know, for someone who complains so much you never volunteer to drive."

He began to reply but I cut him off. "By the way, where do you want to eat today? I was feeling Little Shawn's."

Ethan looked over at me and asked, "That pizza place over on McAlistair?"

"Yeah I saw a commercial for pizza this morning so I've been craving it all day."

"Come on man, you know we can't make it there and back in time. We'd be late." Ethan was a color inside the lines kind of guy and he proved it by constantly shooting down all my good ideas.

"Who cares? What's Blackwell gonna do, fire us? I almost wish she would."

My statement actually made Ethan turn in his seat to face me, and I saw his smile slide off of his face. He opened his mouth to say something, before sighing and staring straight forwards out the windshield. After a moment he brought a hand up to his temple and said, "See that's the thing. You always say shit like this and I don't know if you're joking anymore."

The atmosphere in the car had turned cold. The way he was talking it almost sounded like he was worried about me. I didn't like this feeling.

The silence stretched on far longer than I should have allowed it to before I finally decided to extend an olive branch.

"If you're so worried about being late we can go to Tony's."

Ethan gave me a smile that didn't reach his eyes, and I wondered if that's how I looked to other people.

* * *

It was later that night, and I was getting ready to meet up with my sugar mama. I tried to meet up with her once a week, but it didn't help that she insisted on meeting with me in the middle of nowhere. The location this week was an abandoned warehouse near the train yards.

I was taking a taxi because this was not the kind of area that I trusted my car to still be here when I got back. As per usual I told the cabbie to let me off a few blocks away from my destination. I got out of the cab and walked to the back, where I popped the trunk. I gingerly took a brown suitcase out and set it on the sidewalk. I left the cabbie with a generous tip and waited until he drove off before I started walking.

As I walked, I adjusted the back of my fur coat over the Jericho 941 in my waistband. I could have bought a holster for it, but I preferred the aesthetic of having it rammed down the front of my pants. In my profession it paid to be taken seriously, and nothing says serious like a loaded gun.

Most people expect April to be warm, but most people had never been in Brockton Bay. I hunched over as another gust of cold wind hit me head on. It was times like this that I almost wished I lived somewhere else.

First impressions are important. Of course, if you meet a girl in a suit and fur coat she'll expect you to be dressed fancily whenever you meet again. This meant that whenever I met my female benefactor I had to dress up and slick back my hair. I thought it made me look like a suave spy; I'd been told I looked like a kid playing dress up.

I was walking so hunched over that I didn't even notice the thugs in front of me until I almost bumped into them. There were three of them blocking the cracked sidewalk, two black guys and a latino. They were wearing ratty clothes and big grins.

The big black guy in the middle looked me up and down before saying, "You lost man? This ain't the Boardwalk."

As soon as he started talking I took a step back. I wasn't intimidated or anything, but this guy had one of the worst cases of meth mouth I had ever seen. Brown spittle was flying out every time he opened his mouth, and the skin around his mouth was blistered and raw.

"Fuck, man, we go through this every time you see me." I lightly chuckled and continued, "You ever gonna get tired of the same old joke?"

"Not happenin', man," came the laughing reply.

They stepped aside, then fell into step behind me as I continued down the road. I found myself walking with a bit of a spring in my step; it made me feel like I had a troupe of body guards. I mean, how often do you get to lead a group of hardcore thugs?

Unfortunately, our little impromptu parade came to an end relatively quickly. In what felt like no time at all, we had come up to my destination: the only warehouse in the area that didn't look completely dilapidated. It was made of grey bricks and took up nearly the entire block. Every window had been smashed and then covered with plywood.

We stepped through one of the many large gaps in the fence that surrounded the lot and walked up to a steel door. I knocked once, and after a moment I heard a latch open from within. In stark contrast, the inside was brightly lit and relatively clean. That gave me a completely unobstructed few of the multitude of opened up cars.

Immediately my eyes settled on the reason I carried a heavy suitcase all this way. With a smirk I passed it off to one of the thugs and stepped forward to greet her the same way I always did.

"I hope you've got my money, Squealer."


	2. Chapter 2

It was four a.m. and I had a tough decision in front of me: do I try to sleep for a few hours or stay up all night? I had to wake up by six if I wanted to get to work on time, and if I went to sleep now it was likely I would sleep through any alarms. I wasn't too attached to my job, but it would be too annoying to have another disciplinary meeting for a no show. Maybe I should have paid for another round with Maria before she left. She was surprisingly cheap for her talent, but then again most Merchant whores were.

I groaned as I sat up, pushing the comforter to the side with one arm while the other held my head. My temples weren't quite pounding yet, but I knew I was only a few hours from being tragically sober. I swung my feet off of the bed and had to stop myself from jumping when my foot knocked a mostly full whiskey bottle across the floor.

My heart was pounding though there was clearly no danger. In an effort to settle my nerves I looked around the small room the Merchants kept for associates like me. If a stranger looked in, they would think this was an average cheap motel room with its alcohol stained carpet and smoke stained walls. Well, I was responsible for most of the alcohol stains over the course of my various stays, but either way I doubted the sheets were always washed between visits. The room had a bed, a nightstand and a table, other than that it was depressingly bare.

I'm glad my sister wasn't here to see me like this, sleep deprived, slightly drunk and twitchy as always. She had never approved of the ways I had fun, whether it was skipping class or getting drunk. It was like it had never occurred to her that not everyone could be perfect, and she had looked at me with disappointment far more often than with love. She had been one of those people that skated through life without effort and assumed everyone had the same ease.

I chased those thoughts out of my head as I glanced longingly at the bottle of Jameson, but I new that drinking more would solve none of my problems. Luckily I had managed to not lose my briefcase over the weekend, and it contained something a little better than coffee to wake up with. I popped open the locks, and reached for a fairly large baggy half full with fine white powder. After a moment spent working the knot, I poured a fair amount onto the nightstand and busied myself with cutting up the cocaine with one of my credit cards.

Slim Bradley had been the one to actually give me my payment on Friday, as apparently Squealer was too good to deal with me personally. It was probably better for me to deal with Slim Bradley anyways, as he was the only Merchant I trusted not to try to cheat me on the payment. His nickname was only partially fitting, because the only reason he could be considered "slim" by any metric was his height, as not only was he taller than me but his shoulders were wider.

I realized I had finished chopping the coke a few minutes ago, and slowly cut myself four generous lines. Normally I used a $100 bill for this, but even I wasn't stupid enough to carry cash like that when I was partying with Merchants. So for today a $5 would have to suffice. A few snorts later and two of the lines were gone but I was feeling more present than ever.

Pushing my way to my feet, I triumphantly stretched, at least until my knee twinged and I was forced to clutch at it. After a few moments I was able to hobble my way across the room to the table where my clothes were lying in a heap. I put my pants on one leg at a time, but I had to start over when I realized I wasn't wearing my boxers the first time. Eventually I had managed to dress myself and I was ready to leave. I wouldn't be smelling perfectly, but my students could deal with it.

Now fully clothed I quickly finished off the remaining two lines and packed away my coke. I put the $5 and my credit card back in my wallet as I stood up and began to gather my few possessions. I made sure to put the Jameson in my briefcase and my wallet and cell phone in my pockets before heading for the door. The last thing I did was tuck my pistol into the waistband of my pants. The door squeaked open, but I paused before leaving to look around the room one last time. I sighed, and left the room.

* * *

I wiped the fog off the screen of my phone with my thumb as I checked the time. It was now 4:42 a.m. and I was walking to work. It was quite the walk from the edge of the docks to Winslow, but I had a few hours to kill and I enjoyed the exercise. I had left the apartment building a few minutes ago and was now rapidly approaching the edge of this part of Merchant territory. People liked to insult the Merchants, usually calling them bottom feeders who only held turf that the other gangs didn't bother with. That may have been true at one point, but their fortunes were firmly on the upswing now.

The corner I was approaching was an example of this. Six months ago there may have been a few bums hanging around, or maybe an unlucky whore who had been chased out of nicer areas. Now however, it was a bustling twenty four hour drug marketplace. It was honestly inspiring to see what Roadie had built. Even at five in the morning there were junkies looking to buy, and he always had people here willing to sell. This was where I normally bought my coke, and out of respect I paused and had a quick key bump.

Of course, as the boss of this corner he wasn't here this early in the morning. Instead Roadie's sidekick 'Lex was sitting on a ratty couch on the sidewalk supervising a couple of hoppers. He was a normal sized guy, but it was clear that he worked out whenever he wasn't on a corner. I was still walking towards him when I was roughly pushed aside by a junkie who was staggering over to one of the kids.

I kept walking for a moment, before lurching to a stop with my fists clenched and teeth grinding. Red clouded my vision, and for an instant my mind was filled with all of the ways I could hurt him.

I took a moment to get my voice under control before calling out: "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I knew I was going to kill this punk, and I fingered the handle of my Jericho 941 in anticipation.

'Lex knew me, and to his credit he knew where this was heading. At some point he had stood up, and his booming voice interrupted me before I could continue.

"Now I know you didn't run into my boy on purpose, so why don't you apologize before things get messy?" he said with his arms spread wide.

The junkie replied, "Fuck you man, I barely touched him."

I took a shuddering breath in an attempt to calm down. If 'Lex had intervened like this, then it probably meant he would object to me shooting one of his customers. That didn't mean he wouldn't have the young bloods teach this bitch a lesson, especially if he kept running his mouth.

'Lex was walking over now, and it pissed me off to see how calm he was about this whole situation. It was like he didn't even care that this bastard had blatantly disrespected me.

"Way I see it you got two options. Either you apologize, or we run you off our corner."

The junkie's tongue scrabbled over chapped lips, revealing a mouth missing too many teeth. I was less angry now, as either way I would get my satisfaction. He turned away from me and looked at the approaching gangster with wide eyes. 'Lex continued, "And who the fuck are you gonna buy from if not us? You gonna go buy from the Asians? Everybody knows their dope is weak as shit." At this point 'Lex was directly in the junkie's face, and even though the junkie was half a head taller he was leaning back. "And over there, they'd set your ass on fire for knocking into 'em. Compared to them, we're paragons of fucking forgiveness."

Finally the junkie turned to face me. We made eye contact before I started to give him a once-over. I was momentarily struck by how blue his eyes were. They were the soft kind blue of that would stand out on anyone, but they were especially noticeable when they were sunk so far into a too thin face. His cheekbones were covered in equal measures of acne scars, grime and stubble and prominent enough that I wondered when he had last had a full meal. I got angrier when I realized this guy was filthy enough to be kicked out of any shelter but still looked down on me enough to think he could get away with running into me.

I realized that I had spaced out while they were still talking when I heard 'Lex say, "So you cool with him Jackie?"

I bit back a retort and thought about my options. After a moment I felt a grin spread across my face.

"Yeah we're cool. I overreacted."

I walked closer to the junkie, and I felt a surge of satisfaction when he took a half step back. I threw my left arm up around his shoulder and said, "In fact why don't we introduce ourselves to each other as a sign of friendship?"

I stuck my arm out and continued, "I'm Jack Palace, it's nice to meet you."

He glanced down at my hand as if it was a dangerous animal. He looked between 'Lex and I before he tentatively extended his own.

"Larry Cousins."

I slapped him lightly on the back, and he recoiled as if stung. I pretended not to notice and said, "Alright Larry," at this point I leaned in conspiratorially, "Why don't we celebrate our new friendship with a toast? And I just so happen to have some whiskey right here with me. I don't have any glasses, so you'll have to take a pull from the bottle, okay?"

He was stammering out some reply, but by the time he centered himself I had already pulled the bottle out of my briefcase. I held up a finger as I took a pull, and when I lowered the bottle my smirk was a bit more genuine. Before he could say anything I pushed the bottle into his hand and said, "No go on, I insist."

The junkie sniffed the opening of the bottle suspiciously, as if it was somehow a trap. He looked over at 'Lex, who simply shrugged as if to say _get on with it_. I noticed his face was paler than it had been, and it was with great reluctance that he brought the bottle to his lips.

As soon as he swallowed I punched him as hard as I could. The whiskey bottle clattered to the ground noisily as he doubled over clutching his stomach.

"That's what you get bitch!"

Still bent over, he looked up at me. I took the opportunity to hit him in the face this time, and he collapsed onto his side. I kicked him again and again, only stopping when he managed to raise one of his arms. Tears were starting to run down his face, and I could barely make out him wheezing, "St… stop… stop... please…"

I squatted down so I was closer to eye level with him and said, "See the thing is that nobody gets away with fucking with me." I noticed the whiskey bottle was still nearly a third full, so I reached over and picked it up. It only took a second to change it with my power. "Especially not some fucking junkie."

I upended the bottle.

The junky screamed. The effects of concentrated sulfuric acid are ugly and fast acting. By the time the bottle was empty the skin on his hands and face was already starting to blacken. After a few moments spent studying the junkie's convulsing form I realized he was shrieking.

I was shocked when I felt a hand on my shoulder, but I calmed down when I realized it was just 'Lex. This whole situation had been cathartic.

He was clearly angry, and he jabbed a finger into my chest as he shouted, "Fuck! You said you were cool! Now I gotta get rid of this motherfucker and you scared off half my crew."

I raised my hands in mock surrender. "Sorry, but I had to do it."

'Lex stared at me for several seconds, before sighing. He turned around, and waved over one of the hoppers who hadn't ran. "I'mma need you to close up shop while I'm gone. I'm gotta dump this bitch before the sun comes up, and I need someone to let Roadie know what happened." At this he turned to me and said, "And Jackie, you fucking owe me."

I smirked and started to walk away. I saw one of the corner boys jogging towards an SUV that had been parked a half a block down the road. Dimly I realized that the junkie had stopped screaming, but I could still hear labored breathing. As I kept walking, even that sound faded out.

Looking down at my watch, I saw that this diversion had only taken about ten minutes, so I still had plenty of time to make it to work.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Sorry about the delay. I started writing without an idea of a plot. After kicking around a few ideas, I finally cobbled together a story I wanted to tell. As always let me know how I can improve, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. There will not be the same wait for chapter 3 :)**


	3. Chapter 3

It would surprise my students to learn that teachers are just as human as anyone else. I've heard numerous jokes about teachers living in their classrooms, and while that might be true of some people, I would rather slit my throat than spend an hour sitting in my classroom. Unfortunately I'd arrived early enough that I was faced with that exact situation. Time to go see if Ethan was in his classroom.

I didn't bother locking the door to my classroom when I left. It's not like there is anything worth stealing in there, and even if there were the replacements wouldn't be coming out of my pocket. The room had come with bookshelves lining a wall when I moved in, but even now they were still mostly empty. Hell, the students' desks were probably the most expensive thing in there, and even then they would only be worth the metal in them.

Winslow had problems, institutionally speaking. The fact that I continued to be employed was a good indicator, and the generally poor maintenance was another. Most of the kids wouldn't know how bad it was because they had nothing to compare it to, but I had worked at Immaculata for a year. Things didn't exactly gleam over there, but broken fixtures were replaced much faster. The lock on one of the doors in the bathroom in the teacher's lounge had been broken since I started working here, over at Immaculata it would have been replaced within a few days. I knew that because that's how long it took for them to fix a window I broke.

Of course there were some things I preferred about Winslow. The students might be dumber and less motivated, but at least I didn't have to deal with strict nuns anymore. Plus I hadn't had a single parent come in to complain about me since I switched schools. Overall, things were a lot more relaxed where I taught now.

I finally reached Ethan's classroom, and was happy to see that the door was open. He normally showed up pretty early to let kids hang out in his classroom before school and today was no exception. He was chatting amiably with some girls about some upcoming lesson. Apparently his World Issues class had finally reached a part that the group had been looking forwards to.

"Hey Ethan." I greeted him as I fully entered the room. He raised his hand in greeting but kept talking to the students as I walked past, apparently content to finish his conversation first. I sighed as I collapsed into one of desks in the front row, my briefcase scraping against the floor as I dropped it. I massaged my temples with one hand as I stretched the other arm. In the past it had bothered me that I was pretty short for a man, but at least I could still fit in these desks comfortably. As I stretched I noticed I'd had developed a headache at some point.

Finally I was done stretching and I leaned forwards onto the desk, one hand on my chin to support my head. With nothing else to do I watched Ethan talk to his students. They were clustered around his desk listening with rapt attention as he gestured wildly. One of the girls laughed, and she was quickly joined by her friends.

Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't want to hang out with students the way he does. At the same time it would be nice to have fans. It was almost certain that Ethan, or Mr. G as his students called him, was the most popular teacher at Winslow. Of course, it's not like he hadn't done anything to earn it. He was always available to his students even after school ended. In fact he even gave out his email to students in case they had any questions after he'd already gone home.

He was annoyingly available to them if I was being honest. Like right now, where he was annoying me in favor of some kids. Or beyond that, like the numerous times he didn't go to lunch with me because he was busy with some needy student.

"Long weekend?"

Ethan's voice snapped me out of my thoughts, and I looked up to see that he was now sitting alone at his desk. Apparently he had finished wasting my time.

I snorted and replied, "Not long enough."

"Never is."

"So, you got any plans for the week?"

Ethan laughed. "Well in World Issues we're getting to a subject the kids have been looking forwards to all year. We'll finally be covering capes, and you know how much they love that."

I nodded and said, "You'd be surprised how often kids talk about cape fights in my class. I swear it'd be faster if I listed the times it didn't happen." I paused to pose as if deep in thought. "Or maybe you wouldn't be surprised."

Someone knocked on his door before he could respond. I didn't bother looking over until I heard someone call my name. I looked up to see a small asian girl wearing an oversized backpack staring me down. It took a few moments for me to place her. A frown spread across my face as I realized I hadn't been as successful in blowing of Juri as I thought. My headache intensified.

"Good morning Juri. Are you here to talk to Mr. G?"

"I just wanted to remind you about what we talked about on Friday, Mr. Palace."

Sighing, I got to my feet as I thought about how best to handle this. All I had to do was promise to act while saying nothing concrete, and I stalled for time by asking, "Am I really so predictable that you knew where I'd be?"

She looked taken aback by my question. One thing I learned about her in my time teaching was that she was easily flustered. She didn't seem to know what to say, so I took seized the initiative.

"I remember our conversation. Now, I also remember saying that I would talk to him before class. So why don't you go to your first period and let me handle it?" I tried to give her a winning smile, but by the way she recoiled it was unlikely I succeeded.

She looked down at the floor, and for a moment I thought I had convinced her. Unfortunately for me she seemed to gather her courage.

"It's just… it's just that you said the same thing last week."

It seemed that my normal tricks wouldn't work, but I still had a few responses up my sleeve. If she had caught me alone they would have worked.

"What's this all about Jack?"

I looked over at Ethan. He was fun to talk to, but it was times like this that made me regret hanging out with him. We had completely different teaching styles, and while he didn't say it often I knew he didn't like how hands off I was.

Before I could explain, Juri cut in. "Some of the boys in my class have been saying racist things to me."

At that I knew I had lost. There was no way he would just let me sweep it under the rug now. My fate was sealed either way so there was no point in me being a part of this conversation any longer.

"Obviously that kind of behavior is unacceptable. Would you be willing to go to the office with me to talk to the principal?"

Juri made a noise of agreement, and with that the two of them turned to leave the room. The last thing I saw before they passed out of sight was Ethan looking back at me over his shoulder, frowning.

Typical. This week was already shaping up to be a difficult one for me, and it was still half an hour before class even started. Well, no use for me to stay in an empty classroom. I picked up my briefcase and began to walk back to my own.

I had nearly reached my door when I felt a vibration in my pocket. Pulling out my phone, I saw that I had received a text. It simply read _meet 2morow at 7._ At least this week wouldn't be completely boring.

* * *

One of the first things I had been taught was to not conduct business over the phone. You could arrange a meeting, but not actually discuss anything. If the message didn't specify a meeting place it meant we were meeting in a certain safehouse near the trainyards. It was a condemned townhouse that Merchant leadership used for meetings. When I arrived I was surprised to see that there was muscle guarding the entrance. Normally the Merchants preferred subtler security.

Regardless, they let me through without any trouble. I hadn't known exactly who I was going to be meeting, so I had assumed it would be a few lieutenants and perhaps Squealer or Whirlygig. Defying my expectations was a costumed black man doing a line off a stained coffee table. The room was empty besides him, maybe because of the odor that wasn't coming from the safehouse. He snorted a few times and rubbed his nose before looking up.

"What the fuck you waiting on asshole?"

I laughed and sat down on a couch opposite him. If someone went through all the effort of cutting me a line, how could I refuse him? I took the offered straw and helped myself.

"That'll put some hair on your chest."

I laughed as I sank back into the couch. This coke was a definite step up from the powder I normally bought. I thought for a second and added, "Hell, it might even a quarter pure."

Skidmark laughed with me for a second. The motion revealed teeth darker than his skin, the kind you'd see on a D.A.R.E poster. It reminded me that I should probably start to brush more often.

"We keep the good shit for capes. Can't be giving those shitnugget junkies product that ain't cut."

I made a sound of agreement before his whole statement sank in.

"Hey slow down. I'm a contractor, not a cape."

"I know what the fuck you think are, but that don't say nothing about what you will be." He leaned over the table and bared his teeth in an approximation of a grin. "How's it sound to be making a cut off the top of the whole fucking Merchants?"

I was a teacher, not an economist, but that sounded like a lot of money. Normally I just received a fee based on my deliveries, so this would definitely be moving up in the organization. The only problem was that I wouldn't be an associate of the Merchants anymore, I would be a part of them. The money would be nice but I needed more information before I could agree to anything. "You guys were fine to have me as a distributor. What's changed?"

Skidmark sat back down and while scratching his sleevless left arm. Idly, I noticed he was actually picking at scabs. "Those taintsucking chinks are planning something. We've been pushing into the docks real slow, but those cumguzzlers ain't done shit about it. They gotta start pushing back soon, so I was thinking we'd get some cape muscle, some real heavy badasses that'd make those shitnuggets think twice before starting shit."

No wonder the offer was so good. Lung was bad news, and this crazy motherfucker was recruiting people to fight him.

"You know what my power is. A dude with a gun is more dangerous than a guy who changes liquids, that's why I carry a piece."

"Now listen up shithead. I've got plans for this city. Squealer's got ideas about your shitty power, and with the tin man we just got we'll spitroast those baboonfucking nazis and those cumlicking asians."

He produced a razor blade out of seemingly nowhere and busied himself with cutting up a few more lines. He pushed a generous portion in front of me and asked, "So motherfucker, you in?"

I should walk away. I enjoyed a life of no responsibility, and I especially enjoyed not having a boss. I'd be making more money but also a hell of a lot more enemies, some of whom were bulletproof. Throwing acid on them just wouldn't cut it, but it sounded like Skidmark was confident he could use me.

"I'm not quitting my day job for this shit." I said as I picked the metal straw back up.

Skidmark just laughed.


End file.
